L  > 


FISHIN'   JIMMY 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AHGELES 


FISHINT  JIMMY-*  BY  ANNIE 
TRUMBULL  SLOSSON  j*  jt  j» 
WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  ALICE 
BARBER  STEPHENS  j*  ^t  ^  ji  ji 


NEW  YORK  J*  CHARLES 
SCRIBNER'S  SONS  ,*  £ 
M  DCCC  XCVIII  j*  ^e  «J* 


Copyright,  1889,  by  A. 
D.  F.  Randolph  &  Co. 

Copyright,    1896,    by 
Annie  Trumbull  Slosson 

Copyright,    1898,    by 
Annie  Trumbull  Slosson 


List  of  Photogravures 


PAGE 


"I'm  get  tin'  on  now,  I'm  nigh  seventy"      Frontispiece 
"  The  alder  and  birch  from  which  as  a  boy  he  cut 

his  simple,  pliant  pole  " 1 1 

"'Twas  the  ole  union  meetin' -house  "      ...  23 

"He  went  about  like  a  real  fisherman"    ...  26 

"  I  jest  sot  down  an'  read  that  hull  story  "     .      .  33 

"  An  untamed  little  heathen" 40 

"  The  pair  were  together,  .  .  .  each  with  a  fish- 
pole"    41 

"  An' I  was  set  tin'  in  the  boat,  fixin'  my  Ian' in' 

net,  when  1  see  him  on  the  shore"   .      .      .  45 
"Sitting  in  the  boat  beside  his  master"    .      .      .47 

' '  //  was  nearly  night  when  they  at  last  found  him  "  55 

"  On'y  a  dog" 61 

"  He  put  a  cold  nose  into  the  cold  hand  of  his  old 

friend" 63 

.£*.£  In  addition  to  these,  there  are  five  head 
and  tail  pieces  by  Alice  Barber  Stephens 


21330CO 


FISHIN'    JIMMY 


TT  was  on  the  margin  of  Pond 
-•-  Brook,  just  back  of  Uncle  Eben's, 
that  I  first  saw  Fishin'  Jimmy.  It 
was  early  June,  and  we  were  again  at 
Franconia,  that  peaceful  little  village 
among  the  northern  hills. 

The  boys,  as  usual,  were  tempting 
the  trout  with  false  fly  or  real  worm, 
and  I  was  roaming  along  the  bank, 
seeking  spring  flowers,  and  hunting 
early  butterflies  and  moths.  Suddenly 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

there  was  a  little  plash  in  the  water 
at  the  spot  where  Ralph  was  fishing, 
the  slender  tip  of  his  rod  bent,  I 
heard  a  voice  cry  out,  "  Strike  him, 
sonny,  strike  him  !  "  and  an  old  man 
came  quickly  but  noiselessly  through 
the  bushes,  just  as  Ralph's  line  flew 
up  into  space,  with,  alas  !  no  shining, 
spotted  trout  upon  the  hook.  The 
new-comer  was  a  spare,  wiry  man  of 
middle  height,  with  a  slight  stoop  in 
his  shoulders,  a  thin  brown  face,  and 
scanty  gray  hair.  He  carried  a  fishing- 
rod,  and  had  some  small  trout  strung 
on  a  forked  stick  in  one  hand.  A 
simple,  homely  figure,  yet  he  stands 
out  in  memory  just  as  I  saw  him  then, 
no  more  to  be  forgotten  than  the 
granite  hills,  the  rushing  streams,  the 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


cascades  of  that  north  country  I  love 
so  well. 

We  fell  into -talk  at  once,  Ralph  and 
Waldo  rushing  eagerly  into  questions 
about  the  fish,  the  bait,  the  best  spots 
in  the  stream,  advancing  their  own 
small  theories,  and  asking  advice  from 
their  new  friend.  For  friend  he  seemed 
even  in  that  first  hour,  as  he  began 
simply,  but  so  wisely,  to  teach  my 
boys  the  art  he  loved.  They  are  older 
now,  and  are  no  mean  anglers,  I  be- 
lieve ;  but  they  look  back  gratefully  to 
those  brookside  lessons,  and  acknowl- 
edge gladly  their  obligations  to  Fishin' 
Jimmy.  But  it  is  not  of  these  practi- 
cal teachings  I  would  now  speak ; 
rather  of  the  lessons  of  simple  faith, 
of  unwearied  patience,  of  self-denial 
3 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

and  cheerful  endurance,  which  the  old 
man  himself  seemed  to  have  learned, 
strangely  enough,  from  the  very  sport 
so  often  called  cruel  and  murderous. 
Incomprehensible  as  it  may  seem,  to 
his  simple  intellect  the  fisherman's  art 
was  a  whole  system  of  morality,  a 
guide  for  every-day  life,  an  education, 
a  gospel.  It  was  all  any  poor  mortal 
man,  woman,  or  child,  needed  in  this 
world  to  make  him  or  her  happy,  use- 
ful, good. 

At  first  we  scarcely  realized  this,  and 
wondered  greatly  at  certain  things  he 
said,  and  the  tone  in  which  he  said 
them.  I  remember  at  that  first  meet- 
ing I  asked  him,  rather  carelessly,  "Do 
you  like  fishing?"  He  did  not  reply 
at  first ;  then  he  looked  at  me  with 
4 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

those  odd,  limpid,  green-gray  eyes  of 
his  which  always  seemed  to  reflect  the 
clear  waters  of  mountain  streams,  and 
said  very  quietly:  "You  wouldn't  ask 
me  if  I  liked  my  mother  —  or  my 
wife."  And  he  always  spoke  of  his 
pursuit  as  one  speaks  of  something 
very  dear,  very  sacred.  Part  of  his 
story  I  learned  from  others,  but  most 
of  it  from  himself,  bit  by  bit,  as  we 
wandered  together  day  by  day  in  that 
lovely  hill-country.  As  I  tell  it  over 
again  I  seem  to  hear  the  rush  of  moun- 
tain streams,  the  "sound  of  a  going  in 
the  tops  of  the  trees,"  the  sweet,  pen- 
sive strain  of  white-throat  sparrow,  and 
the  plash  of  leaping  trout ;  to  see  the 
crystal-clear  waters  pouring  over  granite 
rock,  the  wonderful  purple  light  upon 
5 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

the  mountains,  the  flash  and  glint  of 
darting  fish,  the  tender  green  of  early 
summer  in  the  north  country. 

Fishin'     Jimmy's     real     name     was 

James    Whitcher.       He    was    born    in 

i 

the  Franconia  Valley  of  northern  New 
Hampshire,  and  his  whole  life  had 
been  passed  there.  He  had  always 
fished ;  he  could  not  remember  when 
or  how  he  learned  the  art.  From  the 
days  when,  a  tiny,  bare-legged  urchin 
in  ragged  frock,  he  had  dropped  his 
piece  of  string  with  its  bent  pin  at  the 
end  into  the  narrow,  shallow  brooklet 
behind  his  father's  house,  through 
early  boyhood's  season  of  roaming 
along  Gale  River,  wading  Black  Brook, 
rowing  a  leaky  boat  on  Streeter  or 
Mink  Pond,  through  youth,  through 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


manhood,  on  and  on  into  old  age, 
his  life  had  apparently  been  one  long 
day's  fishing,  —  an  angler's  holiday. 
Had  it  been  only  that?  He  had  not 
cared  for  books,  or  school,  and  all 
efforts  to  tie  him  down  to  study  were 
unavailing.  But  he  knew  well  the 
books  of  running  brooks.  No  dry 
botanical  text-book  or  manual  could 
have  taught  him  all  he  now  knew  t)f 
plants  and  flowers  and  trees. 

He  did  not  call  the  yellow  spatter- 
dock  Nuphar  advena,  but  he  knew  its 
large  leaves  of  rich  green,  where  the 
black  bass  or  pickerel  sheltered  them- 
selves from  the  summer  sun,  and  its 
yellow  balls  on  stout  stems,  around 
which  his  line  so  often  twined  and 
twisted,  or  in  which  the  hook  caught, 
7 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

not  to  be  jerked  out  till  the  long, 
green,  juicy  stalk  itself,  topped  with 
globe  of  greenish  gold,  came  up  from 
its  wet  bed.  He  knew  the  sedges 
along  the  bank  with  their  nodding 
tassels  and  stiff  lance-like  leaves,  the 
feathery  grasses,  the  velvet  moss  up- 
on the  wet  stones,  the  sea-green  lichen 
on  boulder  or  tree-trunk.  There,  in 
that  corner  of  Echo  Lake,  grew  the 
thickest  patch  of  pipewort,  with  its 
small,  round,  grayish-white,  mush- 
room-shaped tops  on  long,  slender 
stems.  If  he  had  styled  it  Erio- 
caulon  septangulare,  would  it  have 
shown  a  closer  knowledge  of  its  habits 
than  did  his  careful  avoidance  of  its 
vicinity,  his  keeping  line  and  flies  at 

a  safe  distance,  as  he  muttered  to  him- 
8 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

self,  "  Them  pesky  butt'ns  agin  ! " 
He  knew  by  sight  the  bur-reed  of 
mountain  ponds,  with  its  round,  prickly 
balls  strung  like  big  beads  on  the  stiff, 
erect  stalks ;  the  little  water-lobelia, 
with  tiny  purple  blossoms,  springing 
from  the  waters  of  lake  and  pond. 
He  knew,  too,  all  the  strange,  beauti- 
ful under-water  growth  :  bladderwort 
in  long,  feathery  garlands,  pellucid 
water-weed,  quillwort  in  stiff  little 
bunches  with  sharp-pointed  leaves  of 
olive-green,  —  all  so  seldom  seen  save 
by  the  angler  whose  hooks  draw  up 
from  time  to  time  the  wet,  lovely 
tangle.  I  remember  the  amusement 
with  which  a  certain  well-known  bota- 
nist, who  had  journeyed  to  the  moun- 
tains in  search  of  a  little  plant,  found 
9 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

many  years  ago  near  Echo  Lake,  but 
not  since  seen,  heard  me  propose  to 
consult  Fishin'  Jimmy  on  the  subject. 
But  I  was  wiser  than  he  knew.  Jimmy 
looked  at  the  specimen  brought  as  an 
aid  to  identification.  It  was  dry  and 
flattened,  and  as  unlike  a  living,  grow- 
ing plant  as  are  generally  the  specimens 
from  an  herbarium.  But  it  showed  the 
awl-shaped  leaves,  and  thread-like  stalk 
with  its  tiny  round  seed-vessels,  like 
those  of  our  common  shepherd's-purse, 
and  Jimmy  knew  it  at  once.  "  There 's 
a  dreffle  lot  o'  that  peppergrass  out  in 
deep  water  there,  jest  where  I  ketched 
the  big  pick'ril,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I 
seen  it  nigh  a  foot  high,  an'  it  's  juicier 
and  livin'er  than  them  dead  sticks  in 
your  book."  At  our  request  he  ac- 


10 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

companied  the  unbelieving  botanist  and 
myself  to  the  spot;  and  there,  looking 
down  through  the  sunlit  water,  we  saw 
great  patches  of  that  rare  and  long-lost 
plant  of  the  Cruciferae  known  to  science 
as  Subularia  aquatica.  For  forty  years 
it  had  hidden  itself  away,  growing  and 
blossoming  and  casting  abroad  its 
seeds  in  its  watery  home,  un- 
seen, or  at  least  unnoticed,  by 
living  soul,  save  by  the 
keen,  soft,  limpid 
eyes  of  Fishin' 
Jimmy. 
And  he 
knew  the 
trees  and 
shrubs 
so  well : 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

the  alder  and  birch  from  which  as  a 
boy  he  cut  his  simple,  pliant  pole ; 
the  shad-blow  and  iron-wood  (he 
called  them,  respectively,  sugarplum 
and  hardhack)  which  he  used  for  the 
more  ambitious  rods  of  maturer  years  ; 
the  mooseberry,  wayfaring-tree,  hobble- 
bush,  or  triptoe,  —  it  has  all  these 
names,  —  with  stout,  trailing  branches, 
over  which  he  stumbled  as  he  hurried 
through  the  woods  and  underbrush  in 
the  darkening  twilight. 

He  had  never  heard  of  entomology. 
Guenee,  Hiibner,  and  Fabricius  were 
unknown  names ;  but  he  could  have 
told  these  worthies  many  new  things. 
Did  they  know  just  at  what  hour  the 
trout  ceased  leaping  at  dark  fly  or 
moth,  and  could  see  only  in  the  dim 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

light  the  ghostly  white  miller?  Did 
they  know  the  comparative  merits,  as 
a  tempting  bait,  of  grasshopper,  cricket, 
spider,  or  wasp ;  and  could  they,  with 
bits  of  wool,  tinsel,  and  feather,  copy 
the  real  dipterous,  hymenopterous,  or 
orthopterous  insect  ? 

And  the  birds  :  he  knew  them  as 
do  few  ornithologists,  by  sight,  by 
sound,  by  little  ways  and  tricks 
of  their  own,  known  only  to  them- 
selves and  him.  The  white-throat 
sparrow  with  its  sweet,  far-reaching 
chant ;  the  hermit-thrush  with  its  chime 
of  bells  in  the  calm  summer  twilight ; 
the  vesper-sparrow  that  ran  before  him 
as  he  crossed  the  meadow,  or  sang  for 
hours,  as  he  fished  the  stream,  its 

'3 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

unvarying,  but  scarcely  monotonous 
little  strain ;  the  cedar-bird,  with  its 
smooth  brown  coat  of  Quaker  simpli- 
city, and  speech  as  brief  and  simple 
as  Quaker  yea  or  nay  ;  the  winter-wren 
sending  out  his  strange,  lovely,  liquid 
warble  from  the  high,  rocky  side  of 
Cannon  Mountain  ;  the  bluebird  of  the 
early  spring,  so  welcome  to  the  winter- 
weary  dwellers  in  that  land  of  ice  and 
snow,  as  he 

"  From  the  bluer  deeps 
Lets  fall  a  quick,  prophetic  strain," 

of  summer,  of  streams  freed  and  flow- 
ing again,  of  waking,  darting,  eager 
fish,  the  veery,  the  phoebe,  the  jay,  the 
vireo,  —  all  these  were  friends,  familiar, 
14 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

tried,  and  true  to  Fishin'  Jimmy.  The 
cluck  and  coo  of  the  cuckoo,  the  bub- 
bling song  of  bobolink  in  buff  and 
black,  the  watery  trill  of  the  stream- 
loving  swamp-sparrow,  the  whispered 
whistle  of  the  stealthy,  darkness-haunt- 
ing whippoorwill,  the  gurgle  and  gargle 
of  the  cow-bunting,  —  he  knew  each 
and  all,  better  than  did  Audubon, 
Nuttall,  or  Wilson.  But  he  never 
dreamed  that  even  the  tiniest  of  his 
little  favorites  bore,  in  the  scientific 
world,  far  away  from  that  quiet  moun- 
tain nest,  such  names  as  Troglodytes 
hyemalis  or  Melospiza  palustris.  He 
could  tell  you,  too,  of  strange,  shy 
creatures  rarely  seen  except  by  the 
early-rising,  late-fishing  angler,  in  quiet, 
15 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

lonesome  places  :  the  otter,  muskrat, 
and  mink  of  ponds  and  lakes,  —  rival 
fishers,  who  bore  off  prey  sometimes 
from  under  his  very  eyes,  —  field-mice 
in  meadow  and  pasture,  blind,  bur- 
rowing moles,  prickly  hedgehogs, 
brown  hares,  and  social,  curious 
squirrels. 

Sometimes  he  -saw  deer,  in  the  early 
morning  or  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening, 
as  they  came  to  drink  at  the  lake  shore, 
and  looked  at  him  with  big,  soft  eyes 
not  unlike  his  own.  Sometimes  a  shaggy 
bear  trotted  across  his  path  and  hid 
himself  in  the  forest,  or  a  sharp-eared 
fox  ran  barking  through  the  bushes. 
He  loved  to  tell  of  these  things  to  us 
who  cared  to  listen,  and  I  still  seem  to 
16 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

hear  his  voice  saying  in  hushed  tones, 
after  a  story  of  woodland  sight  or 
sound :  "  Nobody  don't  see  'em  but 
fishermen.  Nobody  don't  hear  'em  but 
fishermen." 


II 

T3UT  it  was  of  another  kind  of 
••^  knowledge  he  oftenest  spoke,  and 
of  which  I  shall  try  to  tell  you,  in  his 
own  words  as  nearly  as  possible. 

First  let  me  say  that  if  there  should 
seem  to  be  the  faintest  tinge  of  irrever- 
ence in  aught  I  write,  I  tell  my  story 
badly.  There  was  no  irreverence  in 
Fishin'  Jimmy.  He  possessed  a  deep 
and  profound  veneration  for  all  things 
spiritual  and  heavenly  ;  but  it  was  the 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

veneration  of  a  little  child,  mingled  as  is 
that  child's  with  perfect  confidence  and 
utter  frankness.  And  he  used  the  dia- 
lect of  the  country  in  which  he  lived. 

"As  I  was  tellin'  ye,"  he  said,  "I 
allers  loved  fishin'  an'  knowed  't  was  the 
best  thing  in  the  hull  airth.  I  knowed 
it  larnt  ye  more  about  creeters  an'  yarbs 
an'  stuns  an'  water  than  books  could  tell 
ye.  I  knowed  it  made  folks  patienter 
an'  commonsenser  an'  weather-wiser  an* 
cuter  gen'ally ;  gin  'em  more  fac'lty  than 
all  the  school  larnin'  in  creation.  I 
knowed  it  was  more  fillin'  than  vittles, 
more  rousin'  than  whiskey,  more  soothin' 
than  lodlum.  I  knowed  it  cooled  ye 
off  when  ye  was  het,  an'  het  ye  when 
ye  was  cold.  I  knowed  all  that,  o' 
course  —  any  fool  knows  it.  But  — 


20 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


will    ye    b'l'eve    it  ?  —  I    was  more   'n 

*  t 

twenty-one  year  old,  a  man  growed, 
'fore  I  fbun'  out  why  't  was  that  away. 
Father  an'  mother  was  Christian  folks, 
good  out-an'-out  Calv'nist  Baptists 
from  over  East'n  way.  They  fetched 
me  up  right,  made  me  go  to  meetin' 
an'  read  a  chapter  every  Sunday,  an' 
say  a  hymn  Sat' day  night  a'ter  washin' ; 
an'  I  useter  say  my  prayers  mos'  nights. 
I  wa'n't  a  bad  boy  as  boys  go.  But 
nobody  thought  o'  tellin'  me  the  one 
thing,  jest  the  one  single  thing,  that  'd 
ha'  made  all  the  difrunce.  I  knowed 
about  God,  an'  how  he  made  me  an' 
made  the  airth,  an'  everything  an' 
once  I  got  thinkin'  about  that,  an'  I 
asked  my  father  if  God  made  the 
fishes.  He  said  'course  he  did,  the  sea 

21 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

an'  all  that  in  'em  is ;  but  somehow 
that  did  n't  seem  to  mean  nothin' 
much  to  me,  an'  I  lost  my  int'rist  agin. 
An'  I  read  the  Scripter  account  o' 
Jonah  an'  the  big  fish,  an'  all  that  in 

Job  about   pullin'  out    levi'thing   with 

f 
a  hook    an'    stickin'    fish-spears  in  his 

head,  an'  some  parts  in  them  queer 
books  nigh  the  end  o'  the  ole  Test'- 
ment  about  fish-ponds  an'  fish-gates  an' 
fish-pools,  an'  how  the  fishers  shall 
1'ment  —  everything  I  could  pick  out 
about  fishin'  an'  sech ;  but  it  did  n't 
come  home  to  me ;  't  wa'n't  my  kind 
o'  fishin'  an'  I  did  n't  seem  ter  sense 
it. 

"  But  one  day  —  it 's  more  'n  forty 
year  ago  now,  but  I  rec'lect  it  same  's 
't  was  yest'day,  an'  I  shall  rec'lect  it 


22 


the  ole  union  meetin* -bouse.*' 


* 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

forty  thousand  year  from  now  if  I  'm 
'round,  an'  I  guess  I  shall  be  —  I  heerd 
—  suthin' — diffunt.  I  was  down  in 
the  village  one  Sunday ;  it  wa'n't  very 
good  fishin'  —  the  streams  was  too  full ; 
an'  I  thought  I  'd  jest  look  into  the 
meetin'-house  ?s  I  went  by.  'Twas 
the  ole  union  meetin'-house,  down  to 
the  corner,  ye  know,  an'  they  had  n't 
got  no  reg'lar  s'pply,  an'  ye  never 
knowed  what  sort  ye  'd  hear,  so  't  was 
kind  o'  excitin'. 

"  'T  was  late,  'most  'leven  o'clock, 
an'  the  sarm'n  had  begun.  There  was 
a  strange  man  a-preachin',  some  one 
from  over  to  the  hotel.  I  never  heerd 
his  name,  I  never  seed  him  from  that 
day  to  this ;  but  I  knowed  his  face. 
Queer  enough,  I  'd  seed  him  a-fishin'. 
25 


an'    he 
mean 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

I  never  knowed  he  was  a  min'ster ;  he 
did  n't  look  like  one.  He  went  about 
like  a  real  fisherman,  with  ole  clo'es 
an'  an  ole  hat  with  hooks^stuck  in  it, 
an'  big  rubber  boots, 
fished,  reely  fished, 
—  ketched  'em. 
guess  'twas  that 
made  me 
1  iss'n 
a  leetle  • 
sharper 
'n  us'al, 
*for  I 


, 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

never  seed  a  fishin'  min'ster  afore. 
Elder  Jacks'n,  he  said  'twas  a  sinf'l 
waste  o'  time,  an'  ole  Parson  Loomis, 
he  'd  an  idee  it  was  cruel  an'  onmarci- 
ful  ;  so  I  thought  I  'd  jest  see  what 
this  man  'd  preach  about,  an'  I  settled 
down  to  liss'n  to  the  sarm'n. 

"  But  there  wa'n't  no  sarm'n ;  not 
what  I  'd  been  raised  to  think  was  the 
on'y  true  kind.  There  wa'n't  no  heads, 
no  fustlys  nor  sec'ndlys,  nor  fin'ly 
bruthrins,  but  the  first  thing  I  knowed 
I  was  hearin'  a  story,  an'  't  was  a  fishin' 
story.  'T  was  about  Some  One  —  I 
hadn't  the  least  idee  then  who  'twas, 
an'  how  much  it  all  meant — Some 
One  that  was  drefBe  fond  o'  fishin'  an' 
fishermen,  Some  One  that  sot  every- 
thin'  by  the  water,  an'  useter  go  along 

by  the  lakes  an'  ponds,  an'  sail  on  'em, 
27 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


an*  talk  with  the  men  that  was  fishin'. 
An'  how  the  fishermen  all  liked  him, 
'nd  asked  his  'dvice,  an'  done  jest  's  he 
telled  'em  about  the  likeliest  places  to 
fish  ;  an'  how  they  allers  ketched  more 
for  mindin'  him;  an'  how  when  he  was 
a-preachin'  he  would  n't  go  into  a  big 
meetin'-house  an'  talk  to  rich  folks  all 
slicked  up,  but  he  'd  jest  go  out  in  a 
fishin'  boat,  an'  ask  the  men  to  shove 
out  a  mite,  an'  he  'd  talk  to  the  folks  on 
shore,  the  fishin'  folks  an'  their  wives 
an'  the  boys  an'  gals  playin'  on  the 
shore.  An'  then,  best  o'  everything 
he  telled  how  when  he  was  a-choosin' 
the  men  to  go  about  with  him  an'  help 
him  an'  larn  his  ways  so  's  to  come 
a'ter  him,  he  fust  o'  all  picked  out  the 
men  he  'd  seen  every  day  fishin',  an' 

mebbe     fished    with     hisself;    for    he 
28 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


knowed  'em  an'  knowed  he  could  trust 
'em. 

"  An'  then  he  telled  us  about  the 
day  when  this  preacher  come  along  by 
the  lake  —  a  dreffle  sightly  place,  this 
min'ster  said;  he  'd  seed  it  hisself  when 
he  was  trav'lin'  in  them  countries  — 
an'  come  acrost  two  men  he  knowed 
well  ;  they  was  brothers,  an'  they  was 
a-fishin'.  An'  he  jest  asked  'em  in  his 
pleasant-spoken,  frien'ly  way  —  there 
wa'n't  never  sech  a  drawin',  takin', 
lovin'  way  with  any  one  afore  as  this 
man  had,  the  min'ster  said  —  he  jest 
asked  'em  to  come  along  with  him  ; 
an'  they  lay  down  their  poles  an'  their 
lines  an'  everything  an' jined  him.  An' 
then  he  come  along  a  spell  further,  an' 
he  sees  two  boys  out  with  their  ole 

father,  an'  they  was  settin'  in  a  boat  an* 
29 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

fixin'  up  their  tackle,  an'  he  asked  'em 
if  they  'd  jine  him,  too,  an'  they  jest 
dropped  all  their  things,  an'  left  the  ole 
man  with  the  boat  an'  the  fish  an'  the 
bait  an'  follered  the  preacher.  I  don't 
tell  it  very  good.  I  've  read  it  an'  read 
it  sence  that ;  but  I  want  to  make  ye 
see  how  it  sounded  to  me,  how  I  took 
it,  as  the  min'ster  telled  it  that  summer 
day  in  Francony  meetin'.  Ye  see  I  'd 
no  idee  who  the  story  was  about,  the 
man  put  it  so  plain,  in  common  kind 
o'  talk,  without  any  come-to-passes  an' 
whuffers  an'  thuffers,  an'  I  never  con- 
ceited 't  was  a  Bible  narr'tive. 

"  An'  so  fust  thing  I  knowed  I  says 
to  myself,  *  That 's  the  kind  o'  teacher 
I  want.  If  I  could  come  acrost  a  man 
like  that,  I  'd  jest  foller  him,  too, 
through  thick  an'  thin.'  Well,  I  can't 
30 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

put  the  rest  on  it  into  talk  very  good  ; 
't  aint  jest  the  kind  o'  thing  to  speak 
on  'fore  folks,  even  sech  good  friends 
as  you.  I  aint  the  sort  to  go  back  on 
my  word,  —  fishermen  aint,  ye  know, 
—  an'  what  I  'd  said  to  myself  'fore  I 
knowed  who  I  was  bindin'  myself  to, 
I  stuck  to  a'terwards  when  I  knowed 
all  about  him.  For  'taint  for  me  to 
tell  ye,  who  've  got  so  much  more 
larnin'  than  me,  that  there  was  a  dreffle 
lot  more  to  that  story  than  the  fishin' 
part.  That  lovin',  givin'  up,  suff'rin', 
dyin'  part,  ye  know  it  all  yerself,  an' 
I  can't  kinder  say  much  on  it,  'cept 
when  I  'm  jest  all  by  myself,  or  — 
'long  o'  him. 

"  That     a'ternoon    I    took     my    ole 
Bible  that  I  had  n't  read  much  sence 
31 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

I  growed  up,  an'  I  went  out  into  the 
woods  'long  the  river,  an'  'stid  o'  fishin' 
I  jest  sot  down  an'  read  that  hull  story. 
Now  ye  know  it  yerself  by  heart,  an' 
ye  've  knowed  it  all  yer  born  days,  so 
ye  can't  begin  to  tell  how  new  an' 
'stonishin'  't  was  to  me,  an'  how  findin' 
so  much  fishin'  in  it  kinder  helped  me 
unnerstan'  an'  b'l'eve  it  every  mite,  an' 
take  it  right  hum  to  me  to  foller  an' 
live  up  to  's  long  's  I  live  an*  breathe. 
Did  j'ever  think  on  it,  reely  ?  I  tell 
ye,  his  r'liging  's  a  fishin'  r'liging  all 
through.  His  friends  was  fishin'  folks* 
his  pulpit  was  a  fishin'  boat,  or  the 
shore  o'  the  lake  ;  he  loved  the  ponds 
an'  streams ;  an'  when  his  d'sciples 
went  out  fishin',  if  he  did  n't  go  hisself 
with  'em,  he  'd  go  a'ter  'em,  walkin' 
32 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

on  the  water,  to  cheer  'em  up  an' 
comfort  'em. 

"  An'  he  was  allers  'round  the  water; 
for  the  story  '11  say,  f  he  come  to  the 
seashore,'  or  '  he  begun  to  teach  by  the 
seaside,'  or  agin,  '  he  entered  into  a 
boat,'  an'  '  he  was  in  the  stern  o'  the 
boat,  asleep.' 

"  An'  he  used  fish  in  his  mir'cles. 
He  fed  that  crowd  o'  folks  on  fish 
when  they  was  hungry,  bought  'em 
from  a  little  chap  on  the  shore.  I  Ve 
oft'n  thought  how  dreffle  tickled  that 
boy  must  'a'  ben  to  have  him  take 
them  fish.  Mebbe  they  wa'n't  nothin' 
but  shiners,  but  the  fust  the  little  fel- 
ler 'd  ever  ketched  ;  an'  boys  set  a  heap 
on  their  fust  ketch.  He  was  drefHe 
good  to  child'en,  ye  know.  An*  who  'd 
35 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

he  come  to  a'ter  he  'd  died,  an'  ris 
agin  ?  Why,  he  come  down  to  the 
shore  'fore  daylight,  an'  looked  off 
over  the  pond  to  where  his  ole  frien's 
was  a-fishin'.  Ye  see  they  'd  gone  out 
jest  to  quiet  their  minds  an'  keep  up 
their  sperrits ;  ther  's  nothin'  like 
fishin'  for  that,  ye  know,  an'  they  'd 
ben  in  a  heap  o'  trubble.  When  they 
was  settin'  up  the  night  afore,  worryin' 
an'  wond'rin'  an'  s'misin'  what  was 
goin'  ter  become  on  'em  without  their 
master,  Peter  'd  got  kinder  desprit,  an' 
he  up  an'  says  in  his  quick  way,  says 
he,  '  Anyway,  I'm  goin'  a-fishin'.' 
An'  they  all  see  the  sense  on  it, — 
any  fisherman  would,  —  an'  they  says, 
says  they,  (  We  '11  go  'long  too.'  But 
they  did  n't  ketch  anythin'.  I  sup- 
36 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

pose  they  could  n't  fix  their  minds  on 
it,  an'  everythin'  went  wrong  like. 
But  when  mornin'  come  creepin'  up 
over  the  mountings,  fust  thin'  they 
knowed  they  see  him  on  the  bank, 
an'  he  called  out  to  'em  to  know  if 
they'd  ketched  anythin'.  The  water 
jest  run  down  my  cheeks  when  I 
heerd  the  min'ster  tell  that,  an'  it 
kinder  makes  my  eyes  wet  every  time 
I  think  on  't.  For  't  seems  's  if  it 
might  'a'  ben  me  in  that  boat,  who 
heern  that  v'ice  I  loved  so  drefHe 
well  speak  up  agin  so  nat'ral  from 
the  bank  there.  An'  he  eat  some  o' 
their  fish  !  O'  course  he  done  it  to 
sot  their  minds  easy,  to  show  'em  he 
wa'n't  quite  a  sperrit  yit,  but  jest  their 
own  ole  frien'  who  'd  ben  out  in  the  boat 
with  'em  so  many,  many  times.  But 
37 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

seems  to  me,  jest  the  fac'  he  done  it 
kinder  makes  fish  an'  fishin'  diffunt 
from  any  other  thing  in  the  hull  airth. 
I  tell  ye  them  four  books  that  gin  his 
story  is  chock  full  o'  things  that  go 
right  to  the  heart  o'  fishermen,  —  nets, 
an'  hooks,  an'  boats,  an'  the  shores, 
an'  the  sea,  an'  the  mountings,  Peter's 
fishin'-coat,  lilies,  an'  sparrers,  an*  grass 
o'  the  fields,  an'  all  about  the  evenin' 
sky  bein'  red  or  lowerin',  an'  fair  or 
foul  weather. 

"  It 's  an  out-doors,  woodsy,  country 
story,  'sides  bein'  the  heav'nliest  one 
that  was  ever  telled.  I  read  the  hull 
Bible,  as  a  duty,  ye  know.  I  read  the 
epis'les,  but  somehow  they  don't  come 
home  to  me.  Paul  was  a  great  man,  a 
dreffle  smart  scholar,  but  he  was  raised 
in  the  city,  I  guess,  an'  when  I  go  from 
38 


Fishirf  Jimmy 

the    gospils     into    Paul's    writin's    it's 
like  goin'  from  the  woods  an'  hills  an' 

o 

streams  o'  Francony  into  the  streets  of 
a  big  city  like  Concord  or  Manch'ster." 
The  old  man  did  not  say  much  of 
his  after  life  and  the  fruits  of  this 
strange  conversion,  but  his  neighbors 
told  us  a  great  deal.  They  spoke  of 
his  unselfishness,  his  charity,  his  kindly 
deeds  ;  told  of  his  visiting  the  poor  and 
unhappy,  nursing  the  sick.  They  said 
the  little  children  loved  him,  and  every 
one  in  the  village  and  for  miles  around 
trusted  and  leaned  upon  Fishin'  Jimmy. 
He  taught  the  boys  to  fish,  sometimes 
the  girls  too ;  and  while  learning  to 
cast  and  strike,  to  whip  the  stream, 
they  drank  in  knowledge  of  higher 
things,  and  came  to  know  and  love 
39 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

Jimmy's  "  fishin'  r'liging."  I  remem- 
ber they  told  me  of  a  little  French 
Canadian  girl,  a  poor,  wretched  waif, 
whose  mother,  an  unknown  tramp,  had 
fallen  dead  in  the  road  near  the  village. 
The  child,  an  untamed  little  heathen, 
was  found  clinging  to  her  mother's 
body  in  an  agony  of  grief  and  rage, 
and  fought  like  a  tiger  when  they  tried 
to  take  her  away.  A  boy  in  the  little 
group  attracted  to  the  spot  ran  away, 
with  a  child's  faith  in  his  old  friend, 
to  summon  Fishin'  Jimmy.  He  came 
quickly,  lifted  the  little  savage  tenderly, 
and  carried  her  away. 

No   one  witnessed  the  taming    pro- 
cess, but  in   a  few  days   the  pair 
were  seen  together  on  the  margin 

of  Black  Brook,  each    with  a 

40 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

fish-pole.  Her  dark  face  was  bright 
with  interest  and  excitement  as  she  took 
her  first  lesson  in  the  art  of  angling. 
She  jabbered  and  chattered  in  her  odd 
patois,  he  answered  in  broadest  New 
England  dialect,  but  the  two  quite  un- 
derstood each  other,  and  though  Jimmy 
said  afterward  that  it  was  "  dreffle  to 
hear  her  call  the  fish  pois'n,"  they  were 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

soon  great  friends  and  comrades.  For 
weeks  he  kept  and  cared  for  the  child, 
and  when  she  left  him  for  a  good  home 
in  Bethlehem,  one  would  scarcely  have 
recognized  in  the  gentle,  affectionate 
girl  the  wild  creature  of  the  past. 
Though  often  questioned  as  to  the 
means  used  to  effect  this  change, 
Jimmy's  explanation  seemed  rather 
vague  and  unsatisfactory.  "  'T  was 
fishin'  done  it,"  he  said;  "  on'y  fishin'; 
it  allers  works.  The  Christian  r'liging 
itself  had  to  begin  with  fishin',  ye 
know." 


Ill 

one  thing  troubled  Fishin' 
Jimmy.  He  wanted  to  be  a 
"  fisher  of  men."  That  was  what  the 
Great  Teacher  had  promised  he  would 
make  the  fishermen  who  left  their  boats 
to  follow  him.  What  strange,  literal 
meaning  he  attached  to  the  terms,  we 
could  not  tell.  In  vain  we  —  especially 
the  boys,  whose  young  hearts  had  gone 
out  in  warm  affection  to  the  old  man  — 
tried  to  show  him  that  he  was,  by  his 

efforts  to   do   good    and  make    others 
43 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


better  and  happier,  fulfilling  the  Lord's 
directions.  He  could  not  understand 
it  so.  "  I  allers  try  to  think,"  he  said, 
"  that  't  was  me  in  that  boat  when  he 
come  along.  I  make  b'l'eve  that  it  was 
out  on  Streeter  Pond,  an'  I  was  settin' 
in  the  boat,  fixin'  my  lan'in'  net,  when 
I  see  him  on  the  shore.  I  think  mebbe 
I  'm  that  James  —  for  that 's  my  given 
name,  ye  know,  though  they  allers  call 
me  Jimmy  —  an'  then  I  hear  him  callin' 
me,  *  James,  James.'  I  can  hear  him 
jest's  plain  sometimes,  when  the  wind  's 
blowin'  in  the  trees,  an'  I  jest  ache  to 
up  an'  foller  him.  But  says  he,  { I  '11 
make  ye  a  fisher  o'  men,'  an'  he  aint 
done  it.  I  'm  waitin' ;  mebbe  he  '11  larn 
me  some  day." 

He  was  fond  of  all  living  creatures, 
44 


"  AT?  I  was  set  tin'  in  the  boat,  fxiri*  my  tat?  it?  net, 
when  1  see  him  on  the  shore." 


Fishin'  Jimmy 


merciful  to  all.  But  his 
love  for  our  dog  Dash 
became  a  passion,  for 
Dash  was  an  angler. 
Who  that  ever  saw  him 
sitting  in  the  boat  be- 
side his  master,  watching 
with  eager  eye  and  whole 
body  trembling  with  ex- 
citement the  line  as  it 
was  cast,  the  flies  as  they 
touched  the  surface  — 
who  can  forget  old  Dash  ? 
His  fierce  excitement  at 
rise  of  trout,  the  efforts 
at  self-restraint,  the  dis- 
appointment if  the  prey 
escaped,  the  wild  exulta- 
tion if  it  was  captured, 
47 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

how  plainly  —  he  who  runs  might  read 
—  were  shown  these  emotions  in  eye,  in 
ear,  in  tail,  in  whole  quivering  body  ! 
What  wonder  that  it  all  went  straight 
to  the  fisher's  heart  of  Jimmy  !  "  I 
never  knowed  afore  they  could  be 
Christians,"  he  said,  looking,  with  tears 
in  his  soft,  keen  eyes,  at  the  every-day 
scene,  and  with  no  faintest  thought  of 
irreverence.  "  I  never  knowed  it,  but 
I  'd  give  a  stiffikit  o'  membership  in 
the  orthodoxest  church  goin'  to  that 
dog  there." 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  as 
years  went  on  Jimmy  came  to  know 
many  "  fishin'  min'sters  ;  "  for  there 
are  many  of  that  school  who  know  our 
mountain  country,  and  seek  it  yearly. 

All  these  knew  and  loved  the  old  man. 
48 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

And  there  were  others  who  had  wan- 
dered by  that  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  fished 
in  the  waters  of  the  Holy  Land,  and 
with  them  Fishin'  Jimmy  dearly  loved 
to  talk.  But  his  wonder  was  never- 
ending  that,  in  the  scheme  of  evangeliz- 
ing the  world,  more  use  was  not  made 
of  the  "  fishin'  side "  of  the  story. 
"  Haint  they  ever  tried  it  on  them  poor 
heathen  ? "  he  would  ask  earnestly  of 
some  clerical  angler  casting  a  fly  upon 
the  clear  water  of  pond  or  brook.  "  I 
should  think  't  would  'a'  ben  the  fust 
thing  they  'd  done.  Fishin'  fust,  an' 
r'liging  's  sure  to  foller.  An'  it  's  so 
easy ;  fur  heath'n  mostly  r'sides  on 
islands,  don't  they  ?  So  ther  's  plenty 
o'  water,  an'  o'  course  ther  's  fishin'  ; 

an'  oncet  gin  'em  poles  an'  git  'em  to 
4  49 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

work,  an'  they  're  out  o'  mischief  fur 
that  day.  They  'd  like  it  better  'n 
cannib'ling,  or  cuttin'  out  idles,  or 
scratchin'  picters  all  over  theirselves, 
an'  bimeby  —  not  too  suddent,  ye 
know,  to  scare  'em  —  ye  could  begin 
on  that  story,  an'  they  could  n't  stan' 
that,  not  a  heath'n  on  'em.  Won't  ye 
speak  to  the  'Merican  Board  about  it, 
an'  sen'  out  a  few  fishin'  mishneries,  with 
poles  an'  lines  an'  tackle  gen'ally  ?  I  've 
tried  it  on  dreffle  bad  folks,  an'  it  allers 
done  'em  good.  But "  —  so  almost  all 
his  simple  talk  ended  —  "I  wish  I 
could  begin  to  be  a  fisher  o'  men.  I  'm 
gettin'  on  now,  I  'm  nigh  seventy,  an* 
I  aint  got  much  time,  ye  see." 

One  afternoon  in  July  there   came 
over   Franconia    Notch    one  of  those 
5° 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

strangely  sudden  tempests  which  some- 
times visit  that  mountain  country.  It 
had  been  warm  that  day,  unusually 
warm  for  that  refreshingly  cool  spot ; 
but  suddenly  the  sky  grew  dark  and 
darker,  almost  to  blackness,  there  was 
roll  of  thunder  and  flash  of  lightning, 
and  then  poured  down  the  rain  —  rain 
at  first,  but  soon  hail  in  large  frozen 
bullets,  which  fiercely  pelted  any  who 
ventured  outdoors,  rattled  against  the 
windows  of  the  Profile  House  with 
sharp  cracks  like  sounds  of  musketry, 
and  lay  upon  the  piazza  in  heaps  like 
snow.  And  in  the  midst  of  the  wild 
storm  it  was  remembered  that  two 
boys,  guests  at  the  hotel,  had  gone 
up  Mount  Lafayette  alone  that  day. 
They  were  young  boys,  unused  to 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

mountain  climbing,  and  their  friends 
were  anxious.  It  was  found  that  Dash 
had  followed  them ;  and  just  as  some 
one  was  to  be  sent  in  search  of  them,  a 
boy  from  the  stables  brought  the  infor- 
mation that  Fishin'  Jimmy  had  started 
up  the  mountain  after  them  as  the 
storm  broke.  "  Said  if  he  could  n't  be  a 
fisher  o'  men,  mebbe  he  knowed  miff  to 
ketch  boys,"  went  on  our  informant, 
seeing  nothing  more  in  the  speech,  full 
of  pathetic  meaning  to  us  who  knew 
him,  than  the  idle  talk  of  one  whom 
many  considered  "  lackin'."  Jimmy 
was  old  now,  and  had  of  late  grown 
very  feeble,  and  we  did  not  like  to 
think  of  him  out  in  that  wild  storm. 
And  now  suddenly  the  lost  boys  them- 
selves appeared  through  the  opening  in 
52 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

the  woods  opposite  the  house,  and  ran 
in  through  the  sleet,  now  falling  more 
quietly.  They  were  wet,  but  no  worse 
apparently  for  their  adventure,  though 
full  of  contrition  and  distress  at  having 
lost  sight  of  the  dog.  He  had  rushed 
off  into  the  woods  some  hours  before, 
after  a  rabbit  or  hedgehog,  and  had 
never  returned.  Nor  had  they  seen 
Fishin'  Jimmy. 

As  hours  went  by  and  the  old  man 
did  not  return,  a  search  party  was 
sent  out,  and  guides  familiar  with  the 
mountain  paths  went  up  Lafayette  to 
seek  for  him.  It  was  nearly  night 
when  they  at  last  found  him,  and  the 
grand  old  mountains  had  put  on  those 
robes  of  royal  purple  which  they  some- 
times assume  at  eventide.  At  the  foot 
53 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

of  a  mass  of  rock,  which  looked  like 
amethyst  or  wine-red  agate  in  that 
marvellous  evening  light,  the  old  man 
was  lying,  and  Dash  was  with  him. 
From  the  few  faint  words  Jimmy  could 
then  gasp  out,  the  truth  was  gathered. 
He  had  missed  the  boys,  leaving  the 
path  by  which  they  had  returned,  and 
while  stumbling  along  in  search  of 
them,  feeble  and  weary,  he  had  heard 
far  below  a  sound  of  distress.  Look- 
ing down  over  a  steep,  rocky  ledge,  he 
had  seen  his  friend  and  fishing  com- 
rade, old  Dash,  in  sore  trouble.  Poor 
Dash  !  He  never  dreamed  of  harming 
his  old  friend,  for  he  had  a  kind  heart. 
But  he  was  a  sad  coward  in  some  mat- 
ters, and  a  very  baby  when  frightened 

and  away  from  master  and  friends.     So 

54 


"  //  was  nearly  night  when  they  at  last  found  him." 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

I  fear  he  may  have  assumed  the  role  of 
wounded  sufferer  when  in  reality  he 
was  but  scared  and  lonesome.  He 
never  owned  this  afterward,  and  you 
may  be  sure  we  never  let  him  know, 
by  word  or  look,  the  evil  he  had  done. 
Jimmy  saw  him  holding  up  one  paw 
helplessly,  and  looking  at  him  with 
wistful,  imploring  brown  eyes,  heard  his 
pitiful  whimpering  cry  for  aid,  and 
never  doubted  his  great  distress  and 
peril.  Was  Dash  not  a  fisherman  ? 
And  fishermen,  in  Fishin'  Jimmy's 
category,  were  always  true  and  trusty. 
So  the  old  man  without  a  second's  hesi- 
tation started  down  the  steep,  smooth 
decline  to  the  rescue  of  his  friend. 
We  do  not  know  just  how  or  where 

in    that   terrible  descent    he  fell.     To 

57 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

us  who  afterward  saw  the  spot,  and 
thought  of  the  weak  old  man,  chilled 
by  the  storm,  exhausted  by  his  exer- 
tions, and  yet  clambering  down  that 
precipitous  cliff,  made  more  slippery 
and  treacherous  by  the  sleet  and  hail 
still  falling,  it  seemed  impossible  that 
he  could  have  kept  a  foothold  for  an 
instant.  Nor  am  I  sure  that  he  ex- 
pected to  save  himself,  and  Dash  too. 
But  he  tried.  He  was  sadly  hurt.  I 
will  not  tell  you  of  that. 

Looking  out  from  the  hotel  windows 
through  the  gathering  darkness,  we  who 
loved  him  —  it  was  not  a  small  group 
—  saw  a  sorrowful  sight.  Flickering 
lights  thrown  by  the  lanterns  of 
the  guides  came  through  the  woods. 

Across     the     road,    slowly,     carefully, 

58 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

came  strong  men,  bearing  on  a  rough, 
hastily  made  litter  of  boughs  the  dear 
old  man.  All  that  could  have  been 
done  for  the  most  distinguished  guest, 
for  the  dearest,  best-beloved  friend,  was 
done  for  the  gentle  fisherman.  We, 
his  friends,  and  proud  to  style  our- 
selves thus,  were  of  different,  widely 
separated  lands,  greatly  varying  creeds. 
Some  were  nearly  as  old  as  the  dying 
man,  some  in  the  prime  of  manhood. 
There  were  youths  and  maidens  and 
little  children.  But  through  the  night 
we  watched  together.  The  old  Roman 
bishop,  whose  calm,  benign  face  we 
all  know  and  love ;  the  Churchman, 
ascetic  in  faith,  but  with  the  kindest, 
most  indulgent  heart  when  one  finds 

it;    the    gentle     old     Quakeress    with 
59 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

placid,  unwrinkled  brow  and  silvery 
hair;  Presbyterian,  Methodist,  and 
Baptist,  —  we  were  all  one  that  night. 
The  old  angler  did  not  suffer  —  we 
were  so  glad  of  that !  But  he  did  not 
appear  to  know  us,  and  his  talk  seemed 
strange.  It  rambled  on  quietly,  softly, 
like  one  of  his  own  mountain  brooks, 
babbling  of  green  fields,  of  sunny  sum- 
mer days,  of  his  favorite  sport,  and  ah  ! 
of  other  things.  But  he  was  not  speak- 
ing to  us.  A  sudden,  awed  hush  and 
thrill  came  over  us  as,  bending  to  catch 
the  low  words,  we  all  at  once  under- 
stood what  only  the  bishop  put  into 
words  as  he  said,  half  to  himself,  in  a 
sudden,  quick,  broken  whisper,  "  God 
bless  the  man,  he 's  talking  to  his 

Master !  " 

60 


Fishin'   Jimmy 

"  Yes,  sir,  that  's  so,"  went  on  the 
quiet  voice ;  "  't  was  on'y  a  dog  sure 
nuff;  't  wa'n't  even  a  boy,  as  ye  say, 
an'  ye  ast  me  to  be  a  fisher  o'  men. 
But  I  haint  had  no  chance  for  that, 
somehow  ;  mebbe  I  wa'n't  fit 
for  't.  I  'm  on'y  jest  a  poor 
old  fisherman,  Fishin'  Jimmy, 
ye  know,  sir.  Ye  useter  call 
me  James  —  no  one  else 
ever  done  it.  On'y  a  dog  ?  • 
But  he  wa'n't  jest  a  common 
dog,  sir ;  he  was  a  fishin'  dog.  I 
never  seed  a  man  love  fishin'  mor'n 
Dash."  The  dog  was  in  the  room, 
and  heard  his  name.  Stealing  to 
the  bedside,  he  put  a  cold  nose  into 
the  cold  hand  of  his  old  friend,  and 

no  one  had  the  heart  to  take  him  away. 
61 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

The  touch  turned  the  current  of  the 
old  man's  talk  for  a  moment,  and  he 
was  fishing  again  with  his  dog  friend. 
"  See  'em  break,  Dashy !  See  'em 
break  !  Lots  on  'em  to-day,  aint  they? 
Keep  still,  there 's  a  good  dog,  while 
I  put  on  a  diffunt  fly.  Don't  ye  see 
they  're  jumpin'  at  them  gnats  ?  Aint 
the  water  jest  'live  with  'em  ?  Aint 
it  shinin'  an*  clear  an'  —  "  The  voice 
faltered  an  instant,  then  went  on: 
"  Yes,  sir,  I  'm  comin'  —  I  'm  glad, 
dreffle  glad  to  come.  Don't  mind 
'bout  my  leavin'  my  fishin'  ;  do  ye 
think  I  care  'bout  that  ?  I  '11  jest  lay 
down  my  pole  ahin'  the  alders  here, 
an'  put  my  lan'in'  net  on  the  stuns,  with 
my  flies  an'  tackle  —  the  boys  '11  like 

'em,  ye  know  —  an'  I  '11  be  right  along. 
62 


He  put  a  cold  nose  into  the  cold  hand  of  bis  old 
friend." 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

"  I  mos'  knowed  ye  was  on'y  a-tryin' 
me  when  ye  said  that  'bout  how  I 
had  n't  been  a  fisher  o'  men,  nor  even 
boys,  on'y  a  dog.  'T  was  a  —  fishin' 
dog  —  ye  know  —  an'  ye  was  allers 
dreffle  good  to  fishermen,  —  dreffle 
good  to  —  everybody  ;  died  —  for  'em, 
did  n't  ye  ?  — 

"  Please  wait  —  on  —  the  bank  there, 
a  minnit ;  I  'm  comin'  'crost.  Water 
's  pretty  —  cold  this  —  spring  —  an' 
the  stream  's  risin'  —  but  —  I  —  can  — 
do  it;  —  don't  ye  mind  —  'bout  me, 
sir.  I  '11  get  acrost."  Once  more  the 
voice  ceased,  and  we  thought  we  should 
not  hear  it  again  this  side  that  stream. 

But  suddenly  a  strange  light  came 
over  the  thin  face,  the  soft  gray  eyes 

opened  wide^  and  he  cried  out,  with  the 
5  65 


Fishin'  Jimmy 

strong  voice  we  had  so  often  heard 
come  ringing  out  to  us  across  the 
mountain  streams  above  the  sound  of 
their  rushing  :  "  Here  I  be,  sir  !  It  's 
Fishin'  Jimmy,  ye  know,  from  Fran- 
cony  way ;  him  ye  useter  call  James 
when  ye  come  'long  the  shore  o'  the 
pond  an'  I  was  a-fishin'.  I  heern  ye 
agin,  jest  now  —  an'  I  —  straight- 
way —  f 'sook  —  my  —  nets  —  an'  — 
follered  —  " 

Had  the  voice  ceased  utterly  ?  No, 
we  could  catch  faint,  low  murmurs  and 
the  lips  still  moved.  But  the  words 
were  not  for  us ;  and  we  did  not  know 
when  he  reached  the  other  bank. 


66 


ARRANGED  AND  PRINTED  FOR 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

BY  THE  UNIVERSITY  PRESS, 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS 


THE 

VNIVERSITY 

PRESS 


